Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge
by SulpiciaDoesntApprove
Summary: There is nothing more lethal than the centuries-old grudge of a defeated arch-enemy. And no revenge is sweeter than the one of a badly betrayed wife. Rated T for some violence and abusive language. VLAD/SULLY
1. Chapter 1

_**I have been pretty **__**harsh on Sulpicia in my other fics, haven't I?**_

_**She is always **__**just the wife in the tower and never actually gets to do something. Let's change that, shall we? And Vladimir still holds a grudge against Aro for overthrowing him. He has been brooding over his vendetta for centuries….**_

_**So now it's time for **__**their sweet revenge! Burn Aro burn! MWHAHAHAHA! ;)**_

_**Disclaimer: Twilight is by Stephenie Meyer and "Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge" is by My Chemical Romance. Sulpicia/Vladimir, however, is the product of my very own twisted mind.**_

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He was sitting completely motionless on a simple wooden chair. It was brittle and dusty, covered in cobwebs.

And nothing like a throne.

His pale hair and powdery skin made him look like a sick, dead man in the gloomy light absorbed by the ancient rock that formed the cave.

His lair.

It had been almost fifteen hundred years now. One and a half millennia is a long time to wait. But his time would come.

He would rise again.

Until then, he had to plot. Plot and ponder, but cleverly. He had to find his enemy's weaknesses. And once he found them, he would use them to destroy him.

His army was small, but growing. Growing at a steady rate. And his day would come.

_Isn't it funny,_ he was musing, _that I have slowly forgotten all those dear ones I've lost, but the thirst for revenge is growing with every single day?_

He looked up when a tall, dark cloaked figure burst in through the hidden entrance. None of his loyal vampires around stopped her, she came with a dignity that didn't let them dare to stand in her way.

"Vladimir," she addressed him and her low, whispery voice sent chills down his spine.

Her straight, bony figure faintly remembered him of someone. And he was sure he had seen those very fair curls and powdery, skinny fingers before. She smelled like one of them, one of the dark cloaked bastards that had haunted his every thought like gloomy nightmares for the past fifteen hundred years. Rotten and foul.

Powerful.

And when she let her deep black hood down, he remembered who she was.

"Oh hello there, beautiful! What an honor to have you here in my humble shelter! Did your dear husband send you to spy on me?" he asked her, his every word dripping with venom.

"I sent myself," she hissed back at him, her head held high. Her milky, narrow eyes gleamed.

_She looks rather attractive,_ Vladimir mused to himself. Her full lips were pressed into a tight line and her prominent cheek bones and straight nose gave her character. He saw the white, graceful arch of her throat and her delicate, bony collarbones shimmer in the dim light.

He couldn't figure what she wanted from him. Sulpicia Volturi showing up at the secret headquarter of the Romanians, her husband's arch-enemies, was more than odd, Vladimir was aware. And she was alone.

A mystery, indeed. And mysteries always made him curious.

He rested his chin on his palm and looked up at her, putting a bored expression on his withered face. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"_Aro_ doesn't know that I'm here," she answered his unspoken question, and her voice was saturated with malice when she said his name. Spat it, like it was a truly nasty word.

She looked down at him snootily, she was at least four inches taller than him. He had always had a thing for tall women.

"Did he decide to get rid of you because you were such a bitch?"

She glared at him furiously. "At least I'm a bitch with decent attire," she spat at him, pointing at his tattered, dusty coat. _Ah, she is right,_ Vladimir thought with dull regret, _but what do you expect when you hide in remote places for fifteen hundred years?_

"And, for your information," she added, "I decided to leave the Italian freak show after my _dear husband_ decided he'd rather spend his time with feeble-minded plans and the little whore of his. He didn't think me smart enough to notice." She stared at him provokingly.

"Ouch, that must hurt," he mocked her. This was getting more and more entertaining, "getting dumped after – let me see – almost two thousand years of marriage?" He didn't try to hide his smile any longer.

He was surprised to see an evil smile appear on her pretty face. "Though not as much as losing your entire carefully built up empire after – let me see – almost two thousand years of undisputed reign?"

He growled warningly, but her smile only got wider.

This woman was truly evil.

And he couldn't deny that he liked it.

She crept closer.

"I want to see my husband burn," she got down to business, not caring if anyone else could overhear their conversation, "and the little witch slut too."

She was such a drama queen. But oh, she had style!

"And what exactly is my role in this?" he asked her, and his smile was as wide as hers.

"Oh, don't try to tell me that you don't need me," she responded self-confidently, "just look at yourself and your pitiable squad and you can clearly see that you are in desperate need of some inside information to carry out your plan for revenge."

She was right. And he knew she knew he knew.

Decayed castles could be rebuilt. Empires lost could be raised from the dead again.

She floated closer and leaned down to his ear. He could feel the tip of her cold tongue on his earlobe. "We will both have our revenge," she whispered.

And she had him.

Revenge had never been sweeter.

"Let's seal this alliance with a glass of rich wine, shall we?" he exclaimed and he didn't even try to hide his excitement.

Stefan brought them two small boys who where whimpering in fear.

"You can pick first, honey," he was feeling generous. Today was a day to celebrate.

He would rise again. They would rise together.

And he snapped the boy's neck with a twist of his small finger. "Cheers," he said to her before sinking his teeth into the warm, soft neck. She grinned back at him wickedly, fresh blood dripping from her red mouth.

"Three cheers for sweet revenge," she agreed. Her pale tongue darted out to lick the blood from her lips seductively.

---

_**Oh dear. This was SO much fun to write!**__** Minor characters are awesome. Vlad/Sully = most random pairing ever!**_

_**Review and tell me I'm crazy!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**No, Vlad/Sully aren't done yet. They are way too much fun to write!**_

_**If you haven't noticed so far, this story contains creepiness, some violence, abusive language and mythological creatures. Nothing too bad. It's rated T after all. **_

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Thunder and lightning. The ancient walls of Volterra were shaking with it. The pitch black, rainy night was illuminated by bright flashes of lightning from time to time.

Inside a tower room, a young boy and girl were sitting at the feet of three dusty thrones. They both had faces like angels, full, red lips and crimson, expressionless eyes.

They looked like creatures from heaven, sent straight from hell.

"I'm bored," the boy whined. But he just kept on sitting there in the dark, gloomy room, lost in his own thoughts. The girl did the same, but her mind wandered to other, more tainted things than his.

The three men on the three thrones were talking. They were talking business, discussed how the kingdom should be ruled.

The power was theirs.

One of them had snow white hair, and his powdery face was twisted into an everlasting scowl. He sat on the right and was eyeing everyone in the room suspiciously.

The one on the left looked like he didn't see anyone. He had that bored, melancholic expression on his pale face, the one only those who are completely somewhere else in their mind have.

The one in the middle had long, jet-black hair. It was like a thick, poisonous veil. His burgundy eyes had the same milky film and his skin was as papery as the one of the other two, but everything from his royal composure to his stern face said that he was the true leader.

His word was law. The power was his.

There were other figures too, hovering over the three ancients or pacing back and forth on the cold, rough stone floor. They wore grey cloaks that veiled their uniform expressions. They were like tin soldiers, soulless and without mercy.

"Master Aro, master Aro!" a petite, graceful woman rushed in the tower room, agitated, "your wife, Sulpicia, she's gone!"

These words said, she kept her eyes to the floor anxiously. Her words were hanging in the moldy air for one or two seconds. And then hell broke loose.

"What?!" the leader with the fair hair yelled.

The grey cloaks scurried around the three thrones.

Even the leader with the bored expression looked up.

And the one addressed got up and hurried over to the unlucky bearer of evil tidings, his black robe billowing behind him.

Only the little girl's apathetic expression lit up and a wicked smiley appeared on her pretty face.

A flash of lighting illuminated the room and in the sickly pale light the gathered looked like creatures straight from a horror tale.

It only lasted for a fraction of a second, after that the tower room was plunged into darkness once again.

Silence followed.

"The mistress and Demetri are gone," the delicate woman stuttered, "without a trace." and then a clap of thunder illustrated her desperate words nicely.

The strange leader put a cold, bone white hand on hers.

Everyone just stared at him while he had his translucent eyelids closed in concentration. His midnight black hair fell into his chalky face. No one dared to even breathe.

And when the leader finally spoke, his whispery voice was layered with fury and hatred.

"We will find whoever did this. No one dares to irritate the Volturi!"

---

_**Thunder**__** and lightning. The perfect setting for a dramatic horror parody.**_

_**Questions? **__**Flames? Reviews?**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Long time no update, I know. But I had to figure out an actual story line first to avoid future writer's block.**_

_**Vlad/Sully have a plan**__** for revenge now. Be afraid, very afraid! ;)**_

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She was tapping her fingers impatiently. Her long, sharp fingernails made a rhythmical sound on the hard, dark wood of her armchair.

Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

There were five young vampires kneeling on the stone floor in front of her. Three men and two women, one of them looking barely older than fifteen.

She wanted the best of the best.

She wanted fighters with talents so unique that the witch twins would look pale beside them. His extraordinary gift wouldn't safe the boy this time. And his malicious, wicked sister would suffer the worst pain imaginable for every single sin she had committed.

But she forced herself not to think about them at the moment. Instead, she examined the five closer in the gloomy light falling through the hole in the ceiling.

They looked raw, untrained and replaceable.

What a disappointment!

Vladimir looked at her expectantly and she sighed inwardly. How did he expect to stand a chance against the Volturi with a miserable, unskilled bunch of newborns? No, it would take much more to overthrow the rulers of the vampire world.

It was not impossible, though.

No one knew the enemy's weaknesses better than her. She smiled a tiny, cruel smile.

And no one was more determined to get their sweet revenge than Vladimir and her.

She shook her head abruptly. "Don't you have anything better?" she hissed, "we need better than that – she made a disparaging gesture with her hand in the direction of the five newborns – if we want victory to be ours."

"So what's your plan then, mistress? "Vladimir hissed back at her, evidently the short vampire couldn't deal with criticism well, "our resources are limited, in case you haven't noticed. This isn't Volterra, you know."

Sulpicia didn't even bother to be offended. She had gotten used to keeping her mouth shut over the past two thousand years on her husband's side. She had been nothing more than a pawn in his games, not talented enough to have a say in anything, but precious enough to be locked in the tower. And pretty enough to be told about all the secrets, the plans.

And oh, she was bitter!

Never treat a queen like a pawn.

He was a mind reader, but even he couldn't have seen it coming. His quiet, suppressed wife turning on him. Even during her human years, times long forgotten, people always made the mistake to underestimate her.

It was her talent.

"Having limited resources doesn't mean that we have to keep our standards low," she turned her head in Vladimir's direction, a curl of her golden hair falling over her obsidian black eyes.

Vladimir was the pawn in her game.

He was bitter, despicable and thirsty for revenge. She certainly liked that.

A lot.

"We'll keep the girl – she pointed at the slender young woman with shoulder-length purple hair – she might be useful. And we'll let the men fight for the other free spot in our guard." Her angelic smile would have put Helen of Troy to shame.

Vladimir ordered Stephan to remove the older woman. Her eyes were wide with fear but she didn't put up a fight when the dark haired vampire dragged her outside by her right arm.

After the screeching sounds had died down it was eerily quiet.

Solemn, almost.

The tapping of her fingernails on the wood was the only sound disturbing the silence.

Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

She was growing impatient. But patience was what she would need in order to make their plan work. She would have to wait, and take comfort in the thought that vengeance would be hers. She would see Volterra burn. She had made that oath to herself.

Stefan returned at last, and he brought back with him the foul, thick smell of smoke on his clothes.

The smell of death.

She sat up and clapped her hands. "Well, fight my lovelies!" she exclaimed, "may the best man win!" Her wicked smile couldn't have been in bigger contrast to her sweet words.

But that she had learned being one of the Volturi: Only the best survive. Only the most wicked and evil win in the end.

The fight didn't last very long. One of the men was already old and the other was small and weak. The newborn with dark, shaggy hair and thick, muscular arms had killed them soon. His ruby eyes were sharp and the determination on his face promising.

A fighter.

She waved Vladimir closer. "We need to choose only the best of the best," she announced determinedly, "we'll build an army like the Volturi have never seen one before. We'll beat them at their own game."

And the smile secure of victory was back on her full, red lips.

It was a mischievous, bitter smile, but it was true.

The mere thought of revenge kept her smiling.

"It will take time, of course," she continued, leaning closer towards him, "but we'll succeed at last."

He growled.

"Patience, my dear Vladimir," she purred, "Rome wasn't built in a day."

---

_**I know Sulpicia is kind of a bitch in this fic. But she has every right to be, hasn't she? And I just love creepy, evil Sulpicia so much more than "tower wife" Sulpicia!**_

_**Reviews are lovely!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**It took me way too long to update this.**_

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"Master…"

"Anything new, Felix?"

The bulky man addressed as Felix shifted his weight slightly from one foot to the other, clearly uneasy. His olive skin had an unhealthy pallor to it, as if he had been drained of everything, blood, life and morals. He looked like the kind of man you didn't want to meet in a deserted alley, especially not in a moonless night. Even though his expression was serious and tense at the moment, he looked like he could smile a twisted smile that sent shivers down your spine.

"Well…" the giant hesitated, his eyes on the dark floor and not on the papery, white face of the black-haired man sitting behind the massive ebony desk.

The man was clearly the leader here, but of what exactly, that would be a mystery to every outside observer. "Yes?" he said, and his voice was a slaty whisper. He tilted his head, like an inquisitive vulture, and a sickly sweet smile played around his lips. "Speak. Or shall I be forced to call Jane in here?"

"No, that won't be necessary, Master," the other replied quickly, clenching his massive fists by his sides.

"Go on then." The leader crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for him to continue.

"I think… we found Demetri."

The leader got up from behind his desk, his long, black cloak and hair billowing behind him. He was almost as tall as the olive-skinned giant, but his built was lank and slender, he would certainly stand no chance against him in a fight one on one. And yet he had something about him… An aloof superiority, accompanied by a smile confident of victory, that made the other flinch away from him just so slightly as he took his hand in his thin one without hesitating.

And then his expression slowly went from one of polite interest to barely concealed rage.

"What?!" he hissed and snatched his hand from the bulky man's. "Only ashes left? They burned him? How is that even possible?"

The olive-skinned man didn't say anything, but it looked like he had gotten even paler.

"You want to tell me that they managed to sneak into _our _castle, kill _my be_st tracker, abduct _my _wife and _you _didn't notice anything?!"

"It seems impossible, yet-" But the master held out a skinny finger to indicate him to be quiet.

He supported himself on his desk. "Of course…" he mumbled to himself, "the Romanians. Who else could be behind this…"

There was a long moment of silence.

"Leave, Felix," he whispered at last, "go and get everyone. We are going to discuss our next steps."

The bulky man seemed all too eager to get out of the gloomy study. He left at a speed that was almost inhuman.

The black-haired man didn't move, it was as if he were frozen where he stood, absorbed in thoughts.

It was only a couple of minutes later, there was a small knock on the heavy wooden door. It opened slowly and a petite girl, who looked barely older than twelve, stuck her head in the room. She had short, lank hair and her face was the one of an angel or a porcelain doll. She even moved like a doll, as if invisible strings were attached to her small limbs.

She sneaked in quickly and closed the door behind her small, androgynous frame.

"Jane, my dear!" he sighed and took the little girl's small hands in his. He kissed her fully on the full, red lips, in a way that was certainly not appropriate for a grown-up man and a child.

"Master…" the girl smiled up at him, obedient, yet almost a little smug.

His chalky lips pulled into a tight line.

"Watch your thoughts," he hissed at her and grabbed her by the shoulders rather roughly, "If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say you had something to do with my wife's disappearance."

---

_**Since Sulpicia was smart and acted quickly, there is no way for Aro to know what really happened, so he is just jumping to conclusions.**_

_**Ha, Aro and Jane are the antagonists here.**__** I still love them, but in this fic they are mainly evil and creepy. Because evil and creepy is fun to write.**_


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